


The Ruling North

by zarahjoyce



Series: Deeply, Madly, Stupidly [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU where Jon is King, Crack, F/M, Fluff, cranky!jon, idek what this is, miserable!Jon, poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18879466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: "I am King," Jon insists, rubbing at his temples. "I can rule the North even without Sansa present.""No," Tormund responds, crossing his arms. "You really can't."aka Jon is miserable and is not at all above making all of the North know it.





	The Ruling North

The air is thick and heavy, almost suffocating, despite the cold lingering in the air.

In the Great Hall the Lords of the North sit with their faces set in varying degrees of frowns and grimaces, but none as severe as that of their King's.  
  
In his seat on the right, Tormund nudges Ser Davos beside him and asks, "How long has it been?"  
  
"Five days," Ser Davos replies gravely, taking great care so that his voice will not carry.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," the wildling says wholeheartedly. "And you think he's fit to call this fucking meeting?"  
  
Ser Davos shrugs. "I have counseled against it, but  _h_ _e's_ the one who insisted. Besides, it's either this or have him pace relentlessly around the castle like--"  
  
"--an idiot?" Tormund then glances at Jon and grunts. "Or a headless crow?"  
  
Ser Davos _looks_ at him but says nothing.   
  
King Jon scratches his beard, eyes cast on the Lord who's just finished relaying his thoughts on the matter. "You want us to rebuild The Wall," he says.  
  
"It _will_ be a worthy endeavor," the Cerwyn Lord replies. "As it was our protection for so long a time, so should it be again. We all will sleep better if it is fortified once more."  
  
"Protection from what? Fortified  _for_ what? White Walkers?" Lord Glover scoffs. "Our great King has already defeated them!"  
  
"Technically, it's  _Arya_ who did when she killed the Night King." King Jon straightens in his seat and all but glares at the older man. "I will  _not_ lay claim to an honor that is not mine in the first place."  
  
Lord Glover curls his lip.  
  
"My lord," King Jon says, addressing the Cerwyn Lord now, his tone conveying just how  _tired_ he is, "Should you wish to rebuild the Wall then  _you_ shall lead in its efforts."

"But I have not enough resources!" cries the lord.  
  
King Jon rubs the skin between his eyes and glowers, "Then perhaps you should have thought of that  _before_ suggesting it in the first place!" He then stands and fairly snarls, "Are there any other matters you wish to bring to my attention, my lords? Things that  _are_ worthdiscussing about?"

The Lords begin murmuring their thoughts to one another, many of them casting dark glances at the king.   
  
"Fucking embarrassing," Tormund comments in a low tone.  
  
Ser Davos does not say anything in return.  
  
Then one of them stands. "What's the point of discussing them when Your Grace  _simply_ does not wish to listen?" Lord Manderly asks bravely, all but openly glaring.  
  
King Jon turns to him. "What did you say?"  
  
Ser Davos, too, rises to his feet, alarmed at the sudden turn in events. "My Lord--"  
  
"Our grievances are brought out into the open and yet you cast them aside as though they are mere whims!" Lord Manderly declares.    
  
"Cast them aside?" Jon repeats, almost incredulously. "I have not--"  
  
"You  _have_ , my lord!" Lord Glover cuts in brusquely. "And I will not stand idly by and watch all these things unfold!"  
  
"You  _would_ know something about standing idly by," King Jon snarls, turning towards him, "for  _that_ is exactly what you have done when the rest of the North banded together in the fight against the Night King!"  
  
"A fight that  _your sister_ won for us!"  
  
"That's--"  
  
"All right, you lords and lads. Calm your fucking tits, all of you!" Tormund says, finally standing.   
  
It's perhaps a testament to his callousness that the men  _do_ quiet down - for a moment.  
  
"You're looking at Jon like he's lost his head and, well, he  _has_ but not for reasons y'all might think--"  
  
" _Tormund_ \--" Jon warns as he warily watches the wildling, who takes this opportunity to approach him.  
  
"I mean, you got to admit, you  _have_ been acting like a little shit in front of these fuckers-- I mean,  _men_ ," the wildling says, in a voice meant for King Jon's ears only - except it isn't. "Ever since that lady of yours left it's been like--"  
  
"The Lady of Winterfell isn't here?" Lord Cerwyn asks, picking up Tormund's words even if he  _is_ sitting the farthest from King Jon.  
  
Ser Davos clears his throat. "Unfortunately, no."

"I  _have_ been wondering why she's not here with us," Yohn Royce pipes up from his seat on the left. "Where  _is_ the Lady Stark, Your Grace?"  
  
"She's--" King Jon glares at Tormund before saying through clenched teeth, "--out visiting our sister."

"It's been five days since she left the castle," the wildling declares, addressing all in attendance quite dramatically. "That's why our King has been acting a little-- well. Shitty." He glances at Jon and grins. "He's missing the missus."  
  
The Lords then begin to loudly express their sympathies.  
  
King Jon sinks into his seat, face on his hands. " _Seven hells_ , Tormund, I'm not--"  
  
"Then why are we all here discussing these things  _now?_ " Lord Manderly says, sounding contrite. "Forgive us, Your Grace. We are not made aware that you are-- shall we say, feeling  _indisposed_ as of the moment." He gives a little bow before him.  
  
"Lord Manderly--"  
  
Lord Glover speaks solemnly, "I have acted poorly and out of turn, Your Grace. For that I beg your indulgence." To the others he says, "We all should convene again when the Lady of Winterfell is present, as I look forward to hearing her counsel with regards to the grain stores that I wish to set up."  
  
"And her thoughts about rebuilding the Wall as well," adds Lord Cerwyn, nodding.  
  
King Jon frowns openly but says nothing.  
  
Yohn Royce says, "For now, we shall take our leave, Your Grace. You need your rest after all. You may wish to call on us again upon the arrival of the Lady."   
  
He grunts his assent, and the Lords begin filing out of the door.   
  
Only when the Great Hall is silent again does Ser Davos turn to him to say, "And  _that,_ Your Grace,is why I have told you  _not_ to call a meeting without the Lady Stark."  
  
"I  _am_ King," Jon insists, rubbing at his temples. "I  _can_ rule the North even without Sansa present."  
  
"No," Tormund responds, crossing his arms. "You  _really_ can't."   
  
" _Sansa said_  I'm good at ruling."  
  
"Yeah?" The wildling gestures at the empty hall and asks, "You call  _that_ good ruling?"  
  
King Jon glares at him.   
  
"What? I'm just telling the truth!" The wildling looks at the King's Hand for assistance.  
  
Ser Davos shakes his head sharply and says, " _Of course_  you can rule, Your Grace."  
  
"Thank you." King Jon looks smugly at Tormund.  
  
"--but--"  
  
" _But_." The King glares at his Hand,then.  
  
Ser Davos sighs. "We are all aware that you rule  _better_ with the Lady of Winterfell beside you."  
  
"Because let's face it, boy: you  _are_ kind of an idiot without her." Tormund nods at himself, as if stating a completely normal and acceptable fact.

Jon frowns but makes no effort _at all_ to dispute it.  
  
Ser Davos then turns towards the door, prompting the King to ask, "Where are  _you_ going?"  
  
"To write to the Lady and beg her to come home."  
  
Jon stills for a moment, then rubs at his face and says, "Yes, _please_ do that. Gods, I miss her so much."  
  
Ser Davos departs without another word.  
  
"Fucking embarrassing," Tormund comments in a low tone. "I mean it's good that you're in love and all, but--"  
   
Jon looks up at Tormund and simply states, "I. Am. Going. To. _Kill._ You."  
  
Tormund claps the King on the shoulder and says, sympathetically, "You're welcome to try, if it'll make you feel better."

"It might," King Jon says miserably, cradling his head in his hands again. "It just might."


End file.
